


Here At The End

by bendingwind



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-09
Updated: 2010-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:19:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bendingwind/pseuds/bendingwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor always comes for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here At The End

It’s the most care he’s ever taken with his appearance; hair carefully in place, suit smoothed to fit his thin frame. Not tweed, he knows she thinks tweed is slightly ridiculous, but fine smooth wool in black.

So his hair is tamed and his face is perfectly smooth and his suit looks wonderful. Any embarrassment at dressing up is gone with the sick feeling lying in the pit of his stomach, and he reminds himself to think of nothing but this night. This time, this tiny sliver of time, is forever. He steps out of his time machine onto a fashionable street in 5034 and makes his way to the teleportation system on the corner. River lives three continents over in a library-based city, but he wants to walk her through these beautiful streets before they leave her home planet. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, feeling in his pocket for the Sonic Screwdriver. His fingers brush the cold metal and he opens his eyes and draws in a breath, and joins the queue waiting to teleport.

Entirely too soon he is in front of her door, fist raised to knock. He stands there, staring at the door, for a while. Two minutes and thirty-three point six seconds in human time. Slowly, he lowers his hand. His face is mere inches from the door, and his eyes are focused on the slightly-worn material with a bizarre sort of concentration.

It takes every ounce of determination he’s ever possessed to move his hand up and knock, gently, on the door. He half-hopes she isn’t home or won’t hear his knock. She opens the door immediately.

“It’s about _time_ you knocked,” she says, teasing and a little bit of scolding in her tone. “I’ve been waiting for you to get around to it.”

Her familiar smirk is firmly in place on that beautiful face, and he can’t help but smile in return. In spite of it all, his heart lifts immeasurably.

_He owes her this at least._

He holds out a hand and, smiling, she reaches out to twine her very indelicate fingers with his own.

“Where are we going this time?” she asks, eyeing him with interest, “I may have to change my clothes.” His smile widens further.

“Wear something nice,” he agrees, pulling his hand out of hers. She turns and disappears back into her flat, and he steps just inside the door. The simple and serviceable house with equally basic furniture is just as he remembers. She always did prefer adventuring to being at home.

“Going by your face, you like red, am I right?” she calls from somewhere deeper in the flat. He only laughs by way of answer, and she reappears minutes later with her hair carefully styled and a lovely, tight, red dress. He moves towards her, hesitantly, and finally comes to a stop precisely two inches in front of her. He looks down to meet her eyes and she stares back up at him, questions written across her face. She’s the first to look away.

“Where are we going this time?” she asks, lightly.

“It’s a surprise,” he replies, doing his best to reciprocate her lightness. He suspects he doesn’t quite manage it, because she shoots him an odd look before traipsing out of the door.

“Are you coming or not?” she calls back after a second, and he follows her with a smile. They wind their way down the street to another public teleportation station. She lifts an eyebrow when he types in their destination, but doesn’t comment.

“Just a quick walkthrough,” he assures her as the air swirls around them and they disappear into a miniature whirlwind. They arrive on the street where he parked the TARDIS, about two blocks away. He offers her his arm with a smug look, and she takes it with a roll of her eyes.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” she asks again as they near the TARDIS. He can tell she is excited—well and truly thrilled, pressing against his side as she is, and the feel of her so close is _so so wonderful_ —and he slips his arm out of hers in order to snake it around her waist. With his other hand, he gently bops her on the nose. She wrinkles it in reaction.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, dear,” he evades.

She smiles and laces her own arms around his waist, and so they walk through the beautiful street, holding each other. She tugs at the necklace she’s wearing and lifts her own TARDIS key from its position below the neckline of her dress and unlocks the door. He opens it for her (she whacks him, hard, on the arm for this outdated display of chivalry) and she sashays inside. He follows her up the steps to the console, and carefully pulls a blindfold from the inside of his jacket.

“You’ll peek if I don’t,” he says as she opens her mouth to protest. She closes her eyes and allows him to carefully tie it around her head. Once he’s sure she can’t see, he turns away and begins pressing dials and knobs and a few strange bits implemented during repair over the years. As he works, a familiar hand runs up his shoulders, and once he’s done he turns to hold her. Her hand continues to explore, caressing his neck with light fingers, holding his cheek for a precious moment before she stretches up to kiss him. He meets her kiss with closed eyes and hopes he can forget, just for this night, that time forever marches on. For just tonight, he wants his brain to stop screaming at him and let him feel and see and hear nothing but the beautiful, beloved woman who is now delicately licking his lower lip. He opens his mouth and deepens the kiss just as a familiar sound signals their arrival. She pulls away with a smirk he knows travels all the way to her eyes. Slowly, he reaches up and unties the blindfold before slipping it down around her neck and finally allowing it to drop to the floor. The smirk reaches her eyes, just as he knew it would, and he bends down to press a chaster kiss to her lips, and then her forehead.

“Come on,” he says, and their hands fall together as they always do. They walk, side by side, out of the TARDIS into a world with a brilliant night sky. In the distance stand beautiful crystalline towers, glowing softly in the starlight, and he leads her in that direction.

He is taking her to the Singing Towers of Darillium, and his heart is breaking a little more with each soft rustle of their feet in the grass.

“You should’ve mentioned I would need hiking boots,” she grumbles, reaching up to get a grip on his arm as she slips off her offending shoes. Barefoot, her shoes swinging in her other hand, she resumes their previous position and pulls him along.

“Will you tell me where we are?” she asks. He smiles softly, knowing she will only just barely be able to see it through the weak starlight.

“This is Darillium. Those are the Singing Towers… they sing. And I’m sorry about the shoes, I forgot it wasn’t paved over this early, only I wanted to bring you here before they put all sorts of preservation technology in and built all the touristy things. It doesn’t sound half so beautiful in the amphitheater they’ll build here one day.”

She nudges him lightly with her elbow to let him know he’s forgiven, and they walk on without words. Finally they settle in the grass near the towers, and River burrows into his side.

“Why are they called the Singing Towers?” she whispers into his neck, and he tightens his hold around her. Maybe he’ll get lucky and find a way to draw her into himself so that they are one, so that he need never lose her.

“You’ll see in a minute,” he whispers back. A spell has fallen over them, peace and quiet and belonging, and something in his hearts tell him this moment will last forever. Slowly, lantern moths swirl up around the towers, dancing and weaving through the air. River draws in a sharp breath and begins to speak again, but he shushes her.

“Wait just a moment,” he says, voice barely audible, “Wait.” She closes her mouth again and gives him a lingering look before turning back to display of beautiful glowing creatures floating through the sky. Suddenly, the wind begins to rise, and the lantern moths vanish. She opens her mouth to ask another question, but he is expecting it, and places a finger over her lips before she can utter a syllable. The wind picks up a bit more, and a gentle humming begins to fill the air. As the breeze steadily rises, so does the sound level, melding into a swirl of hums and whistles and echoes that form a haunting melody. He closes his eyes and loses himself in the music and the feel of River by his side. She pulls him back onto the grass and they lay there, her head on his chest as she listens with one ear to his heartbeats and the other to the music, and his arms wrap around her. The music flows around him, light and airy and sweet, and they cling to one another. She places a feather-light kiss on one eyelid and then the other, followed by a kiss on each cheek, his nose, and then, soft and slow, his lips. They stop there, for a moment, forehead-to-forehead, breathing each other’s breath. Slowly, his hand trails up her side, fingers dancing along the smooth silk of her dress, and she shivers and leans into him, breasts brushing his chest through the fine fabric of his suit. His eyes trace down the strap of that lovely red dress and he buries his head in her shoulder. She runs slender fingers through his hair and mumbles sweet nothings in his ear as an hour slowly passes, and the wind begins to die down.

“Before it ends,” she whispers, “would you dance with me?” His heart rises up to lodge in his throat, choking him, and he cannot stop a tear from falling. He turns his face away so that she will not see, and if she notices, she doesn’t say anything. She stands and tugs at his hand, so he rises to join her.

“River,” he whispers into her hair as they begin to slowly spin on the grass. She’s barefoot and he’s only just managed to get his voice under control, and if he could pause this moment forever he would. They dance for just a bit longer until the music fades away altogether, leaving them tangled in each other. They stay there for a time, together in silence, but finally River’s nature gets the better of her, and she has to ask.

“Where to next?” He chuckles with false good humor.

“No idea,” he says comfortably, and she pulls back from him.

“Well,” she says, determined as ever to not show how impressed she is by the sights he shows her, “in _that_ case, your place or mine?” She drops one lightly made-up eyelid in a wink, and he smiles.

“Let’s go dancing first,” he deflects with a small smile. He wants the night to last longer than this. She laughs and takes his hand, and together they walk, weaving aimlessly, back in the direction of the TARDIS.

“Do you remember Loliss?” he asks after a moment, his voice low and soft.

“Yes,” she laughs with a bright look on her face. “How could I forget? I was a gawky graduate student and we burst in on Amy and Rory when we were running from the tentacle creatures. I was mortified, and you thought it was the most hilarious thing ever.”

He chuckles quietly. “You were much more embarrassed when the TARDIS dumped you into the console room straight from your shower,” he reminds her. She scowls and whacks him lightly on the shoulder.

“I still think you did that on purpose,” she says, but her tone is more amused than annoyed. He smiles and pushes her away a little before pulling her back in close.

“It was worth the slap,” he agrees, and she laughs.

“What have you done since the last time we ran into each other?” he asks. He knows the last time they met, because he came directly here from there.

“Oh, plundered a few temples, robbed a few tombs,” she says, and her voice is teasing but he’s fairly certain she’s serious, “and I ran into Jack again. We pulled off a scheme as a married couple.”

“ _Again?_ Are you sure you don’t prefer him to me?”

She stops and stretches up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Never,” she breathes into his ear, and he closes his eyes and turns his face into hers, so that they are cheek to cheek.

“Love you,” he whispers and places a gentle kiss on her ear. He can feel her smiling.

“I know,” she replies, and then she pulls away and leads him the last few feet to the TARDIS. He opens the door with a snap of his fingers and they enter.

“Do we have to go dancing?” she asks as his fingers hover over the console, looking up at him through thick lashes with beautiful bedroom eyes. His lips quirk and he shakes his head.

“Good. Let’s sit in the library for a while.” Laughing silently at her, he follows her past the (new) pool to the library, and then through to her favorite reading room. She sits with little grace in an overstuffed leather chair and lifts her feet onto the ottoman. He takes a seat across from her, and the TARDIS thoughtfully provides a lit fireplace. He reaches forward and begins to massage her feet.

“Mmm,” she hums happily, wiggling her toes. He smiles and continues. They sit there in silence for a while longer—really, what need is there for words when you know someone so completely?—and then she pulls her feet away.

“Come on,” she says, and she doesn’t need to say what she means. “I’m not sure why you keep putting it off, but,” and he rises and she takes a step closer so that she is pressed against him, “I’d like to get on to… more interesting things. Nice as foot massages are.” He grins, because only River could fit against him this way and make jokes. She winds her arm around his and laces their fingers together, and allows him to lead her back through the hallways of the TARDIS to his room. They make love there, slow and sweet even though she threatens to bite him if he doesn’t spice things up a bit. He looks at her with eyes that can’t quite hide his sorrow, and she doesn’t ask again. He knows she feels the heavy weight of this evening, the way something is going to change, and she is soft and slow and gentle as well.

“We didn’t even have to run from anything this trip,” she whispers later, as they lay together in the dark. He rolls over and kisses her temple, but doesn’t respond. They drift to sleep that way, his lips against her forehead and her breath lightly ticking his collarbone. He wakes, several hours later, and she is sitting in bed next to him. She has been watching him sleep.

“Is there anything I should know?” she asks, slowly. Her eyes meet his, unrelenting, and he bites his tongue so as not to speak. The coppery tang of blood seeps through his mouth.

He swallows heavily and replies, “No, it will be fine, River. But I have something for you.” He breaks eye contact to lean over the bed and rifle through the pockets of his jacket. It doesn’t take him very long to locate his Sonic Screwdriver.

“Here,” he says, handing it to her, “Just in case. You never know what might happen.”

“You’re giving me your screwdriver,” she says, flatly, with an eyebrow lifted in disbelief. Even so, her fingers close lightly around the handle.

“Yes. Just in case,” he says, and he can’t stop his voice from falling to a whisper.

“Haven’t I shown you that I can take care of myself by now?” she snaps, drawing her fingers back from the screwdriver. “Do you really still not trust me to stay alive?”

“I do, River, I do,” he whispers. She can see the lie easily.

“Fine,” she replied, coldly, reaching out to grab it from his hands again. “I see that you still don’t have any faith in me at all. This was just your idea of—of _dating_ me, trying to get me to settle down and live a normal life!” Her voice is sharp, and furious tears are falling down her cheeks. She doesn’t speak for a moment. “I thought—I thought…” she whispers, and then she flees the room. By the time he untangles himself from the sheets and follows her, she has already left the TARDIS. He leans his forehead against the cool door of his time machine and lets the tears fall, freely, because he knows he can’t go after her this time. The TARDIS hums in comfort, and he slowly sinks to the floor.

He kneels there for hours until he cannot cry another tear, and then he stands and types coordinates into the console. Maybe he’ll go to Auborine, to live his last thousand years alone in the Forgotten Mountains. Or maybe he’ll find a planet in danger and go on saving the universe.

Either idea fills his throat with unbearable pain.

* * *


End file.
